Bringing Louis Kahn’s Last Notebook to Life

When I played in a chamber ensemble at Columbia, I remember the intensity of it—not in volume, but in awareness. I had to listen more deeply than I ever had before, not just to myself but to others, adjusting to every breath, every phrase, every hesitation. This way of listening, of adapting to those around you, was something my flute teacher, Sue Ann Kahn, embodied completely. She is a believer in the connective power of music, a lifelong student of sound and its ability to shape relationships, spaces, and even the way we move through the world. In addition to her life in music, she is also the daughter of the renowned architect Louis Kahn and recently served as the editor of The Last Notebook, a facsimile of his final sketches and writings, preserving his creative process in its most intimate form.

“If everyone in the world played chamber music, we wouldn’t have wars.”

— Sue Ann Kahn

The Beginning of a Life in Music

Sue Ann’s journey began at the piano, composing melodies before she could even write them down. “My teacher had to write my pieces down for me,” she recalls. But it was the flute that ultimately captured her imagination. “I heard a concert where the great flutist William Kincaid played,” she says. “Apparently, I pointed and said, ‘I want that.’” And from then on, she did.

Her early years were spent studying both composition and musicology. She initially envisioned a future in academia, immersed in historical manuscripts, creating new editions of works by composers like Mozart and Bach. But something about the solitary nature of that work didn’t fulfill her. “It felt dry,” she admits. “I decided I just wanted to play.”

A Career Shaped by Collaboration

Not having attended a conservatory, Sue Ann had to learn the art of performance on the job. What set her apart was her skill in sight-reading and rhythm, qualities that made her an asset in contemporary music circles. She quickly found herself working alongside composers and forming ensembles, launching what would become a lifetime dedication to chamber music.

Her groups were often unconventional. “I had a chamber group called Bach’s Uncle when the musical Hair first came out,” she recalls with a laugh. “We dressed like hippies, but our tagline was ‘Bach’s Uncle (Is not a Rock Group)’ because we played serious contemporary music.” Later, she co-founded the Jubal Trio—flute, harp, and soprano—a unique combination that allowed them to win major awards and commissioned music specifically for that ensemble.

Despite her many accolades, what Sue Ann values most about chamber music is its ability to teach cooperation. “If everyone in the world played chamber music, we wouldn’t have wars,” she tells me. “You have to listen, you have to adjust, you have to make space for the other person. Everyone brings their own experience, and what you create together is greater than anything you could do alone.”

Her words resonate deeply. Chamber music, at its core, is a study in empathy. It demands that we attune ourselves to the nuances of others, that we relinquish dominance for the sake of harmony. Sue Ann’s perspective reaches beyond music—it’s about how we exist in the world, how we interact with others, how we build something together that is more meaningful than anything we could construct in isolation.

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A young Sue Ann Kahn with her father, Louis Kahn, in Lake Placid, N.Y., August 1949. Courtesy of the Kahn family.

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A Legacy Continued Through Architecture

Lately, her focus has shifted from performance to the legacy of her father, the celebrated architect Louis Kahn. “He was a universal figure,” she says. “He could communicate in any language, with anyone. In India, they felt he was Indian. In Bangladesh, they felt he understood them.” Much like music, his architecture transcended words, speaking instead through form, light, and space.

Louis Kahn was one of the most influential architects of the 20th century, known for his monumental yet deeply humanistic buildings. His works, including the Salk Institute in La Jolla, California, the Kimbell Art Museum in Texas, the National Assembly Building in Dhaka, Bangladesh, the Phillips Exeter Academy Class of 1945 Library, and the Yale University Art Gallery, are recognized for their interplay of light and material, space and silence. He believed in the poetic and spiritual potential of architecture, often speaking of how buildings should evoke a sense of timelessness and grandeur.

Growing up around her father, Sue Ann witnessed firsthand how he saw the world. He didn’t just look at buildings—he saw how light played across surfaces, how colors shifted depending on their surroundings, how space could shape emotion. “He would take me on walks and point out things I never noticed before,” she remembers. “He would say, ‘Look at that blue shadow under the roof—it’s there because of the red beside it. You see how that green isn’t just green, but made richer by the light hitting it a certain way?’”

“ The sun never knew how great it was until it hit the side of a building.” — Louis I. Kahn

These lessons in perception became a kind of language between them, a way of understanding the world that extended beyond architecture. “He had a way of making the ordinary extraordinary,” Sue Ann says. “Even when I was sick in bed, he would sit with me and draw maps of fairylands. He encouraged me to imagine beyond what I could see.”

Her father’s approach to creativity was intuitive and ever-present. He sketched constantly—in notebooks, on napkins, scraps of paper, whatever was available. One of these notebooks, a facsimile of which Sue Ann recently edited and published, provides an intimate glimpse into his creative process.

“Every time I picked it up, I felt his presence,” she admits. “It was like reconnecting with him, 50 years after his death.”

The Room and The Garden
A Set of Charcoal Drawings of the Roosevelt Memorial, New York

The notebook contains drawings and notes from various projects, some well-known and others hidden for decades. “There are drawings of Roosevelt Island from his very first sketches to his final designs,” she says. “And there are pages filled with the contact information of artists and architects he met, scribbled down as if in the middle of a conversation. It makes you feel like you’re right there with him, at a party in New York City.”

Kahn Awarded the Gold Medal for Architecture at the American Academy, Notes of attendee names at the reception

What makes this facsimile special is that it is an exact replica of the original notebook, down to its size, texture, and even the ink stains on the cover. “We wanted it to feel as though you were holding the same notebook he carried with him,” Sue Ann explains. “The only difference is that the pages in the facsimile are slightly thicker than the original, because the original pages were too thin to withstand the printing process.” Even the perforations on the pages were carefully reproduced, maintaining the integrity of the way Kahn used his notebook.

Sue Ann Kahn pointing to replica of ink stains on the cover, The Last Notebook

Editing and producing this book was no small feat. She visited the Met Museum’s library to study different facsimile techniques, learning about how artists and historians have preserved sketchbooks over time. Creating the facsimile was a delicate balance between historical accuracy and practicality, preserving not just the look of her father’s notebook, but its very essence. “It was a learning curve, a steep one,” she says. “But seeing it come together was incredible.” She collaborated with Lars Müller Publishers, whose expertise made the project possible. “I couldn’t have done it without them,” she says. “They understood exactly what this book needed to be. Not just a collection of sketches, but a true artifact of my father’s creative process.”

One of the most poignant moments in The Last Notebook comes on its final page, where Louis Kahn sketched a simple but enigmatic drawing: a burst of light, kind of like a magic wand. “It felt like a message,” Sue Ann reflects. “My father was always searching for something beyond the tangible, something that could transform the ordinary into the extraordinary. That little drawing, it’s as if he left behind a symbol of imagination itself.”

This drawing points to the rest of the book, consisting of blank pages intentionally included to allow readers to add their own drawings, notes, and observations, just as Louis Kahn once did. “My father believed in the act of making,” Sue Ann explains. “For him, a sketch wasn’t just a record of an idea, but a way of thinking. He would draw on anything because creativity was something you had to engage with physically.” This idea shaped Sue Ann’s own vision for the book. She didn’t want The Last Notebook to be a static object, merely studied from a distance. Instead, she saw it as a space for exploration, where readers could respond to her father’s sketches with their own. “It’s not meant to be passively observed,” she says. “It’s meant to be used—to spark new ideas, to be a part of someone’s creative process.”

By including space for others to sketch, Sue Ann ensures that her father’s legacy continues not just in what he built, but in the way he inspired others to see, to draw, and to create.

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The Future of Listening and Creating

As our conversation winds down, we talk about the importance of fostering creativity. “Creativity isn’t just innate—it can be cultivated,” she says. “And music is one of the best ways to train that way of thinking, of living.” She believes that the act of listening, whether in music, in conversation, or in observation, is key to unlocking creativity and collaboration.

Looking ahead, Sue Ann hopes to write about the role of chamber music in building relationships, drawing from her decades of experience. While she is lessening her role as an active performer, she continues to expand her creativity. “I’m slow at writing,” she laughs, “but I think I have something to say.”

When I thank her, she waves it off with a smile, but I can tell she understands what I mean. Teaching, like music, is a kind of giving. And Sue Ann Kahn has spent a lifetime giving—to her students, to the art of listening, to the idea that we are all better when we learn to play together.

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Flutist, educator, and lifelong champion of chamber music, Sue Ann Kahn has shaped generations of musicians through her performances and teaching at Columbia University and beyond. A recipient of the prestigious Naumburg Award and a founding member of the Jubal Trio, she now extends her artistry beyond sound, preserving the creative legacy of her father, architect Louis Kahn, with the same thoughtfulness that defines her musical career.

A newly released second edition of The Last Notebook is scheduled for publication this September.

Sue Ann Kahn

@LOUISKAHNARCHITECT
Lars Müller Publishers